Once I was the new dress, swirls of dark blue on pure white cotton, crisp and suited for summer soirées.
The favorite, I found delight in being washed by hand and then pinned to the clothesline to dry under the warm sun.
I drew compliments from strangers and friends, alike, and I relaxed in the pleasure of being worn, washed, and dried,
Until the day my colors faded and the white no longer looked sharp. I was assessed and found wanting before being
Packed away and relegated to a cardboard box marked for donation. My hopes now lie in resurrection from a thrift bin.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
Aw…poor clothes. Got to say you had me at the pattern. My mum used to have a ton of these xxxxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
My mom did, too. I love the vintage patterns.
LikeLiked by 1 person
They are brilliant xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
I still have memories of being dragged to the fabric store where there was a small table for kids with Golden Nursery and Dr. Seuss books. I remember the drawers chock full of those patterns — filed by… designer number. Perhaps the beginning of my interest in book classification no doubt. 😉 – Marty
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have similar memories!
LikeLike